Musings
by iviscrit
Summary: Minerva McGonagall, headmistress of Hogwarts, reflects on one of the more influential men in her life in an autobiographical account. TMR/MM. Rating subject to change. R&Ring makes me happy.


A/N: Trying something different. Hope y'all enjoy!

* * *

I did not know him well, but I had already decided that I liked him. I knew him from dueling club and prefect meeting only by face and name, and I had not care to find out much else. No, that is not true; I suppose we were decently well acquainted, but we made little effort of seeking one another out. I was head girl, and in my seventh year, so finding him in my defense against the Dark Arts class as a sixth year proved surprising. Still, I knew him to be an intelligent young man, and so I often took the vacant seat beside his. I have never begrudged anyone a right to the respect he or she has earned by merit.

I had never thought of Tom Riddle capable of a real smile in all my exposure to him, limited as it was. I did not think him capable of being silly, or playful. We did not speak much, beyond open remarks directed as much to the class and the professor as they were to one another. One day, though, we walked together to the fields, my senior transfiguration class canceled for the afternoon. I was resolved to do some flying in my free hour, and I spoke of it brightly, the crisp autumn breeze and dappled light from the multicolored foliage instilling in me a boundless energy. Perhaps the good feeling was infectious or perhaps the light hit him differently; I do not know. But something about him struck me as very pleasing in our brief conversation. Perhaps it was his smile. It was the first time I witnessed it, and it lent his face an altogether different character I had not yet seen. He remained on my mind all through my time in the air.

He walked me to class regularly, after that, and we began meeting a quarter of an hour before class began, our talk always inconsequential and polite. He always seemed surprised by my desire to converse with him, at first. I think he thought I was interested in him, and feared an invitation to the impending Slug Club party, something that became the subject of much teasing once we were good friends. Still, he was not too far off from the truth. I did want to know him better.

My first glimpse of his humorous side was the day we paired up for a partner exercise. I remember wondering who I would pick -free choice always has been trying to me for these sorts of things- and he spoke.

"Which exercise do you want to do?" he asked me, inclining his head in the direction of the board.

I raised my eyebrows. "Perhaps number 4? Has any other pairing called it yet?"

"I don't think so… sir?" He raised his hand. "Could we do 4?"

"You and…?"

"Minerva," he replied. I think that was the first time I heard him say my name. Now, I have heard it far too many times to count, along with plenty of nicknames bestowed against my will.

We became friends rather quickly after that, enjoying quidditch excursions and weekend rendezvous with my other friends. We squabbled often, and collaborated still more often, but I found myself always wanting affirmation that he was as fond of my friendship as I was of his, something I did not receive until my early return to Hogwarts after the winter holidays. He was not well, in quite a distracted state and seemed upset about something. He bore a new ring, and I wondered if he had encountered heartbreak over the holidays. I thought better of asking, and instead made it clear that I was there for him, should he ever wish to talk. We became much closer after that. I did not learn that he was shaken up from the murder of his uncle, father, and grandparents until much later. I did not learn that he was responsible for it until years later.

o0o

The first time he asked me to Hogsmeade, I thought little of it, and had accompanied him on what I thought to be a friendly excursion. The first time he told me he saw me as one of his few, close friends at school, I felt genuinely touched, seeing it as the affirmation I had long sought. The first time he told me he loved me, I had assumed it was in jest, as an appropriate reply to a teasing comment I had made moments before.

That night was far from lighthearted, however.

After my research under Dumbledore -a graduation requirement for my chosen future profession- I hid in my usual spot in the library, going over a term paper due the next morning for charms. Tom always knew where to find me, as I always have been a creature of habit, and so when he came to me, bleary-eyed and hair on end, I thought little of it. He was deep in NEWTs; exhaustion was to be expected. "Hi, you. How did the exam go? Which was it, potions?"

"Horribly," he said, collapsing into the seat next to mine.

"Worst case scenario you'll get an E," I said bracingly. I looked at him more closely. His nails had cut half moons into his palms, and his limbs were shaking. He was pale, paler than I'd ever seen, with dark circles under his eyes and a gaunt look to his face. His breaths were shallow, and a thin film of sweat coated his forehead. "Tom… is everything okay?"

"No," he said, "but it will be. I'm actually much better-" He caught his side as though in pain. The action of pulling a textbook from his bag seemed to have brought on a spasm. "I have to annotate an essay, that's all that's wrong with me at the moment."

"Do you need any help?" I asked tentatively, touching the back of my hand to his cheek. It didn't feel overtly warm.

"Please." He handed me his essay, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes, concentrating on steadying his breathing.

"There," I said brightly after some moments of silence, his book turned to the page he needed. "Animagi, the transfigurational process."

He let out a sigh of contentment as he took the book. "You're a godsend, Minerva."

"Love me now?" I teased, looking on as he scribbled notes on the parchment with a steadier hand.

"Forever and always," he murmured, suddenly engulfing me in his arms. I felt his forehead at my shoulder, his face almost to my chest. Tutting, I returned the embrace, now more than a little concerned for him.

"Do I need to take you to the hospital wing?" I asked carefully. "You are not yourself tonight…"

His dark circles stood out like bruises. "I'm perfectly fine."

"No, you really aren't," I said again. "This isn't test exhaustion.. can you hear yourself?"

"Have I said something that seems off?

"'Forever and always'?" I laughed, untangling my arm from his. "When did you turn so maudlin?"

"This is the response I get," he said, voice too loud.

My smile faded a bit. I was unsure of how serious he was. "I mean.."

"I'm sorry my feelings are so amusing to you."

I felt my cheeks redden. "You're exhausted. I'll take you to bed…"

"I'm quite well," he said sharply.

"Tom." I stood over him, my hands on his shoulders, legs on either side of his. "You aren't well."

"Then help me."

"I'm trying." I cupped his cheek, slipping my hand into his tousled hair. "You don't let me."

"Because you don't try hard enough." Suddenly, his hands were at my waist, pulling me down to his lap. His lips were on mine as I began to form a reprimand, and I felt his hand in my hair, long fingers entangling themselves in the dark strands. My hand had remained at his cheek, and I tried first at turning his face from mine, and then at pulling his arm that restrained my head. He pulled me to him still more tightly, his kiss devoid of the tenderness he had initiated with, and I seized his wrists. I managed to wrench his hands away from me, pinning them against the wall. Our faces were very close, foreheads touching. Shaking, I released his wrists and slowly pulled away.

"What the hell, Tom." I felt newly self-conscious of myself, effectively straddling him as it was. I made to stand up, but his hands found my hips, holding me in place.

"Don't worry," he said quietly.

"You've made that difficult to do now," I snapped. "What were you thinking?"

"That I've wanted to do that for a long while."

I stared. " Do you want me to turn you in for sexual harassment?" I saw the hurt in his face and tried to amend. "If I have ever led you on- if anything I have ever said or done is the reason for this, I'm sorry-"

"Don't," he said, his grip slackening. "I'm sorry for presuming my feelings were… returned."

I threw my arms around his neck. "I do love you," I whispered earnestly. "I do. I care about you deeply. I thought you knew that… and that it's not in the way you want me to."

He suffered through my embrace, his hands returned to the armrests. "I see."

"I shouldn't have made light of it."

"That would have been preferable, yes."

"But I really had no way of knowing," I added, trying to smile.

"A fair assessment."

I regarded him for what felt like a long while. "Can we pretend that this never happened, and just go back to how things were ten minutes ago?" I reached towards his hair, to bring it some semblance of order.

"No." He caught my wrist. "We both know it won't happen."

"At least let me take you to the wing," I said. "You aren't well."

"In all honesty, Minerva, I feel markedly better," he said, tipping his head back. "The room seems to have stopped spinning, I feel less exhausted, the ache is gone… although it does seem to have been replaced with a new one…"

"I'm sorry," I said in a rush. "I can't help it if-"

"Teasing," he said with a wicked smile. "Awful at the wrong moments, isn't it?"

I laughed weakly. "Good. I suppose if ask you to take me to Slughorn's end-of-term party tomorrow night, you will have to decline due to recent events?"

"Any particular reason for asking me?"

"Bilius asked me and I said I was going with someone else," I said with a shrug. "Will you?"

"I see it as an opportunity for redemption," he said patting my knee. "I will. Now get off me, I imagine you've spent more time on my lap than you've ever wanted…"

I hastily stood, smoothing my skirt down. "We'll meet around 8, okay? And you do know I love-"

"Please," he said, looking at his parchment as I reclaimed my seat. "Not now."

o0o

After that, things were not quite the same. Our time together was always carefully handled, the both of us hyperaware of our proximity and of his every lingering touch. I was more preoccupied with my impending graduation and subsequent internship, moving out of Caithness, and finding a place in London, so Tom was low on my list of concerns. Still, he managed to make himself a nuisance all the same. I would not realize that he had made his first horcrux on the first night he kissed me until a good long while later, but I got my first glimpses of his experimental antics when he came to me for help with an independent study in transfiguration of his own devising. It was the spell that would later operate his Dark Marks the Death Eaters bear, but we worked on engravings on objects as a means of communication. He often was a visitor to my private dormitory, and I got to endure the gossip of the school when, one Friday night, we both fell asleep over our work.

"Did you feel it this time?"

"No, Tom," I groaned, collapsing back against my pillows. "Can we call it a night? If I get a room check we're both screwed."

"I don't understand," he said to himself. "It didn't even heat up?"

"No," I snapped. "Nothing. Maybe you should try carving it into my skin. Then I might feel something."

"An intriguing idea," he said tiredly, "but not til I get the spell right. We're doing something wrong. This is supposed to be your field of expertise, Minerva."

"Just ask Dumbledore already, we're both in over our heads," I grumbled. "I want to sleep… it's nearly 2 am…"

"I'll die before I ask him for help," Tom muttered.

"This is all because he gave you an E on that written assessment at the start of the term."

"He's completely biased," he said coolly. "Complete rubbish, that's what that was."

"Try this Latin incantation," I suggested, covering my head with a pillow. "Then touch the wand to the carving instead of your hand… your wandless magic is great, but a wand will better focus it."

"Which incantation?" I groaned, and crawled down to help him.

I don't remember falling asleep, and I certainly don't remember falling asleep entangled with him, but that was how I woke up, using his chest as a pillow. My cheek bore a red likeness of his prefect badge, and my wand arm was numb from our awkward positioning. My left arm was splayed across him, and our legs overlapped. I attempted to worm my way free without disturbing him. I failed.

"Morning," he said, rubbing his eyes with his spare hand and cocking a brow when he realized my proximity. "Please tell me we did things you'll forever regret and that I'm only blanking on the memories because you wiped my mind."

"F**k you."

"So you did?"

"Nothing happened!" I flung his arm off my shoulder and sat up. "This desperation is so unbecoming."

"Fine," he said, his eyes mirthful. "What time is it?"

"A quarter after eight," I said. "Oh no…"

"Minerva, it's Saturday."

"I'm supposed to meet Poppy and Pomona and Alastor for breakfast.." I hurried to make myself presentable.

"So go," Tom said, raising his eyebrows. "Tell them you slept in."

I gave him a filthy look. "Obviously."

"At least you don't have to return to your dormitory in the clothes you left in," he pointed out. He examined his reflection. "Almost looks as though I never made it to bed…"

"This is not a walk of shame, and if you make it out to be one to your little friends I will never allow you in my room again."

He laughed, but said nothing in reply. He was remarkably unbothered by the prospect of leaving my room with ample evidence that he had stayed the night, with zero concern about the fact that his being there past curfew merited a detention for the both of us. "What should I do with all of that?" he asked, gesturing to the mess of last night's magical experimentation.

"Stuff it under the bed," I ordered. "I'm out of here."

A quick Banishing charm attended to the mess, and we slipped out of my room. "How angry will you be if I accompany you?"

"Livid," I retorted. "I'm going to breakfast." His laughter echoed in my head long after he was beyond earshot.

I didn't see Tom for the rest of the day until dinner, and I enjoyed a breakfast with the girls devoid of questions. At dinner, though, I ran into Abraxas. The look he gave me, half knowing gaze and half smirk, was enough to arouse suspicion. I saw him talking with Tom at the Slytherin table later, and felt my cheeks grow hot.

"Are you okay?"

"Stuff it, Poppy." I stood, and made my way to Abraxas' seat. "Do we know who's on patrol for the east wing tonight?"

They both looked up. "Are you talking to both of us, or just me?" Tom asked.

"Just Abraxas, actually. I don't see a head boy badge on you, Tom. Well?"

"Why don't you take it?" Abraxas said with a sneer. "Tom, are you assigned to a patrol yet? Why don't you go with Minerva."

"If she's fine with it," Tom said, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

"Tom, do we need to have a word?" I planted my hands on my hips, expression stern.

He sighed theatrically. "Why do I put up with her?" he asked Abraxas.

"Why indeed."

"I'm still standing here," I said irritably.

"How rude of me. Would you care to sit?" Tom said politely.

"I'm fine as I am." I jerked my head in the direction of the door. "Let's have a talk, you and I."

"Sit down," he said, catching me by the waist and pulling me down to his lap, "and we can talk right here."

I glared at him, hyperaware of the looks we were receiving. "You are making a scene."

"I wasn't the one who barged in, interrupted a conversation over a matter that could easily have waited, and attempted to pry me away from my dinner," he said in a voice of maddening calm. "It seems to me that you are making a scene, Minerva. Is my lap not comfortable? You had no complaints a few hours earlier."

I was accustomed to the differences in Tom's behavior around his friends and around myself, but this was the first time I was on the receiving end of his insensitivity. My face felt hot, and I knew that my blush would be more than apparent. Hooking my arm around his neck, I pulled his head down to my lips. "You are being a monumental, insufferable asshole right now," I whispered heatedly in his ear, "and I will not take to it kindly. Don't entertain ideas of visiting me any more unless you have intentions of setting the record straight to your little friends and apologizing." As I released him I caught a good look at his face. The cool composure had cracked, and there was a trace of worry in his eyes. "Sorry to disturb everyone," I said, standing again and tossing my ponytail over my shoulder. "Tom, don't bother showing up for patrol tonight, I will manage well enough on my own."

I left, hearing an incredulous voice ask "What did you do?" to my immense satisfaction.

"Lover's quarrel?" Poppy said understandingly.

"What?"

"You both aren't a couple?"

"Merlin, no," I sputtered. "Why would you think that?"

"You're cute together," she said with a shrug. "And it doesn't really go unnoticed by any of us prefects, you know."

"What doesn't go unnoticed?" I was close to shouting now, my words clipped and overloud.

"Stop yelling. You both always sit together, you patrol together, you flirt all through meetings, he teases you in small ways, and he seems to frequent your tower inordinately lately. What are we supposed to think?"

"Fine." I was finding it difficult to refute any of the points she had made. "We're-" My intention was to say 'completely platonic,' but it hardly felt true. "We're just friends, Poppy."

"If you say so."

"Does Tom say otherwise?" I whipped around, staring at his table with narrowed eyes. "I am going to murder him..."

"Not exactly," she said slowly. "But... he makes it clear how he feels about you. Have you ever considered giving him a chance?"

"A few times," I admitted. "And I always conclude that we would be awful together. We're too committed to our work, and you forget, I'm graduating. And he's still a boy, at the end of the day, even if he is nearly my age."

"But it's not that you would never be attracted to him?" Poppy said carefully.

I looked at her, wondering how she always managed to cut straight to the heart of the matter, and ask questions that made me doubt all that I had deemed unchangeable. "I suppose not."

"I wondered if he stayed the night, to be honest," she told me softly, "because you were late to meet us with a Slytherin prefect badge mark on your cheek. We didn't want to be rude." She laughed. "I should have known you're far too tight-laced to do that. But I did wonder."

I clapped a hand to my face. "Oh no." I used a goblet as a mirror, checking my reflection. The bruise was quite obvious. "Damn it. Damn it."

Poppy patted my shoulder. "It doesn't look like anything below-board happened, Minerva. Calm down."

"Except Merlin alone knows what he's told his friends." I returned to my food, picking at it. "I'll let you know what happens after he apologizes."

"Don't kill him," Poppy teased. "You'll regret it after you do."

"But I'll savor the moment," I said, beginning to feel lighthearted again. "You're objectively the best, Poppy."

"I do try."

o0o

His apology consisted of a wordless hug during our patrol together that night, and a whispered explanation that he had never said anything to compromise my reputation. The visits stopped, however, something I was grateful for. I felt at ease as things gradually returned to how they were, and I thought that he had gotten over his little infatuation. At my graduation, he held me longer than was strictly necessary, the newly named head boy for the following term, and told me he had plans for his senior year. "You will visit me, won't you?"

"During breaks? Of course. I'll be in London. Will you visit me in the latter half of the summer?"

"Naturally." He let go, looking at me. "Minerva, I never did tell you that I figured out the spell."

"I knew you would," I said happily. "I'm proud of you."

"I wanted to tell you-"

I would not find out until I received his letter. My brothers came to pull me back to my parents, and I left him there in the Great Hall, words formed on his lips and hand outstretched. "Write to me," I called. "Have a good summer!"

It was a remarkably unsatisfactory goodbye. It was not our final goodbye, though. That was still a ways in the making.

* * *

**A/N: First person narratives are so dang HARD. Idk how long this shall be but it shall be chaptered. This I am certain of. Review if you love me, etc. **


End file.
